Her
by Adam Kadmon
Summary: Oneshot writer's block exercise. Short, strange, and more than a little silly.


Her

Adam Kadmon

Disclaimer: if you are reading this, you are no doubt aware that I have no rights what so ever regarding Evangelion.

* * *

Tuesday was fast becoming her favorite day.

First and foremost among her reasons for her new affection for the third day of the week, was that she got to see… him.

Not that Tuesday was the only time she could lay eyes upon him, rather, it provided a unique opportunity regarding the time she viewed him. For Tuesday was gym day. Specifically, it was the day the boys of class 2-A ran the track, wearing those graciously designed shorts. Given her vantage point, she could easily see the sweat that rested on his brow, the subtle pulsing of his chest, and the magnificent tautness of his legs as they carried him across the asphalt. Though not the fastest boy among the ranks, he was without doubt the most graceful. His long gait, the gentle swing of his exquisite arms, the determination etched on his young features. Undoubtedly, all the beauty and elegance he possessed brought about by his singularly unique personal life, and the weight it placed on his shoulders. His lean, sculpted shoulders.

She was aware, acutely aware, that her fascination with him must be kept secret. No one must know. Not the faceless harpies that claimed her friendship, nor the boys that ogled her, rendered grotesque and monstrous when placed next to him. Among all her peers, who could ever hope to understand her passion for the shy, small boy? The exquisitely refined young man with the deep eyes of blue, so sad and aged given his handful of years.

But she was not fooled. Not for a moment. Fourteen years upon the earth? A mere technicality. His wisdom and courage equated far more, making him a man. Making him more than men twice his age. More than anyone else on the planet. He was a hero, a champion, a defender, a righteous slayer of false deities and terrible monsters. He was, like no other before him or after, the pinnacle of human striving, a paragon, the closest to God.

As ashamed as she was to admit it, that was what originally drew her eyes and thoughts to him. She was not as unaware as those around her might think. She knew the talk about him, the quiet, whispered snatches of conversation that occurred behind his back. About his prowess and fame, his heroics on the battlefield, the passion he displayed while saving their petty lives from oblivion.

She could easily picture him in her mind, clad in strange, ethereal armor, boldly challenging any and all who dared threaten both her and her world, facing any danger without regard to his own life, conquering all adversaries who dared oppose him.

To be sure she had heard the darker rumors about the ferocity he showed when fighting. The strange, terrified whispers in dark corners told under the slightest of breaths…

Berserker.

It never bothered her. She knew it was exaggeration, or paranoid delusions by a paranoid organization. The man she knew would never allow himself to lose control. He might not always have control of a situation, but he never lost his own. He was calm, a serene ocean lapping an endless shore in a hazy twilight, a summer's breeze that catches on your neck, the last lingering moment before a gentle rain shower. He was all these things and so much more. To her, he was the beginning of all good things and an end to all bad.

And to think she had not given him a second glance when first she saw him. It was a source of continual disgrace to her but honesty with herself was a decadence she indulged in, especially when the outer world required such subterfuge and deception. As time passed and he became more entrenched within her daily life and nightly thoughts she saw what others could not. What she could not at first.

The soft, gentle demeanor he carried himself with was a credit to the species. His fears and hesitance were a courtesy to others, allowing their cruel dependence on him to be questioned and reevaluated. His shyness was elixir in an age of grotesque exhibitionism and crude spectacle. His quiet bravery was undaunted, unmatched and unforgettable. The way his soul presented its beauty in his actions and words and behavior was like witnessing God's grace and hopes for humanity made plain to see.

And of course there was his physical perfection to consider. And she did consider that often. She decided to reflect on it again, and her eyes drew back to him.

He was at the track now, having just finished his run. It was always a thrill to see him after such an event, sweat coating his body, his breath coming in short, sometimes ragged pants… it made her sweat and pant just to watch him in such a state. She could, and often did, easily imagine him in a very similar state following a very different type of exertion. To be completely honest, she let herself indulge in such a fantasy at the moment, one she was quite familiar with, but which never lost any of its force or power. It was a guilty pleasure, to think of him in the throes of passion, his soft, melodic voice carrying his ecstasy to her ears. Guilty, because she felt it demeaned him, lessened his perfection.

But that didn't stop her from imagining it.

She watched him, still partially within her hazy dream, and nearly swooned as he threw his head back and shook beads of sweat from his brow, while using his shirt to fan himself. Flashes of skin, of his flawless, luxurious skin reached her eyes.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, in her body, and suddenly, being around other people was not an option. She mumbled a few apologies to her peers and ran. But she could not help herself. She took a final, longing look at him, at his pure, perfect form and shuddered violently. Suddenly all she could feel was the inescapable, unbearable heat he made her experience. She ran, though she could not feel her feet, though she did not know where she went. She held fleeting, blurred images of grass, students, trees, and the expansive blue of the sky as it arced up and out over the roof of the school.

At length she found herself behind the abandoned tennis courts, on a slight hill overlooking several rows of long fountains, long since abandoned due to their inconvenient location and faulty plumbing. It was here her legs finally quit on her, and she collapsed against a rusty fence in a heap of sweat and emotion. She clasped the wire mesh, fingers pulling the entire structure towards her, making a sympathetic rattle parade down the line. She could not help it. Seeing him, so close, so wondrously close, forced unwarranted reactions within her body. Despite the noise they sometimes caused she always failed in her attempts to restrain them. They became forces of nature. Unchainable, unblockable, unforgettable. And settling down on the abandoned hill she could ride the storm out in peace. As… pleasant as these occurrences could be, having an audience was not recommended. These episodes demanded a grace period away from others.

Her gaze fell lightly on the lines of fountains, taking a subtle, distracting pleasure in the finer details; the spigots adorned with rust like craggy robes, lines of mold tracing spidery paths from the cracked porcelain to the dusty earth below, stagnant pools of greenish water lying curled between atolls of naked ceramic, a heavy black bird with a sickly mottled coat island hopping on spindly wire legs searching for a meal…

And then the bird took to the air in a flutter of wings and she saw him.

He rounded the corner from the main courtyard in a light jog, still fanning himself, and made his way to the fountains. He looked around quickly, and ducked his head under the faucet. He withdrew just as fast, shaking the water from his crown, grinning softly at the cooling effect it no doubt had on him. The water, dripping down his frame, mingling with the slick perspiration he produced… God, to be able to let a single droplet fall upon her, to feel a part of him on part of her.

A sudden, unbidden image of using her tongue to retrieve a droplet of the fluid came to her and she had to sit down quickly, rattling the fence again. And he looked up and saw her.

He saw her.

She sucked in her breath and her eyes bore into him. She could not blink, could not move. He had caught her. The urge to run away flooded her, but her body refused her commands. She was completely at his mercy.

What punishment would he exact upon her?

He shyly raised his hand and offered a small wave, a slim twitch of his wrist that he tried to hide behind.

"Oh, uh, hi."

He… he'd spoken to her! His eyes, focused solely on her! The beautiful language of his body, addressing only her!

She required a moment, simply to realize this was no dream, this was not another vivid fantasy.

"I didn't expect to see you all the way out here," he went on, singing in that melodious tone that belonged only to him.

Oh, God look at him blush slightly, a faint rose kissing his cheeks, as he was caught in a wholly innocent act. Was the idea that someone watched him without his knowledge so embarrassing to him? What would he do if all the stolen moments she had taken of him were to be put on display? The delicious humility and bashfulness he would undoubtedly present made her feel faint.

She gripped the fence harder and it shook again. Like some startled animal, he jumped. She damned herself for daring to surprise him in such a manner, and was already plotting what retribution would need to be exacted when he let her hear a nervous chuckle.

"S-sorry," he blurted out. He fell to mumbling, embarrassment evident on his features. His cheeks were bright red and were clear, even at such a distance. But the blue of his eyes evaded her, as he focused on the ground.

Her lips parted. The words she wanted to say collided in her throat, creating an impassable obstruction. Her jaw worked, but all that she could manage was a series of short, silent gasps. How… how on earth could mere words, in any language, hope to convey the weight of her feelings? Words, sounds signifying ideas, they were so woefully inadequate. But they were all that was left to her in this situation.

"It's…"

His head whipped up, completely surprised. He waited for her to continue. There was no impatience or annoyance in him; nothing but genuine curiosity and shy wonder.

"It's… okay."

She damned herself all over again. 'It's okay?' Is that all she could muster when he was standing right in front of her? What was her problem? Why was she so God damn inept and pathetic? How could anyone as great as he ever consider looking at her when all she could mumble was a meaningless and trite nicety regarding a slight social faux pas? Was this the extent of her mental and emotional powers? Was she doomed to live her life within fantasies and pathetic daydreams when the real thing was ripe and dangling right before her, waiting to be plucked and savored? What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she—

Oh… oh, God.

All conscious thought halted. He… he was smiling at her. It was not the smile he gave the irritating boys who monopolized his time, or his clueless colleagues… it was small, fragile, infinitely precious and amazing. Just a small upward curve of his lips, a softening of his eyes, a momentary removal of all the hurt and pain and tragedy he forever carried with him. It was a brief, shining, beautiful moment, and it gave the world to her.

"Thank you," he told her.

She could barely manage the required contractions in her neck to nod.

"Well, um… I should get back to class…" He backed away, slowly, still bearing his small, private smile. "Uh… it was nice seeing you. Have a nice day."

She watched him turn and run. When he reached the buildings of the school again, he glanced back at her, still in the same spot. She had not moved an inch since he wished her well. She had not moved a muscle. She had not breathed. He turned the corner and was gone.

She collapsed. She sucked on the air greedily.

Good God. Was it possible to orgasm just from being spoken to? Was that why everything below her waist was on pins and needles right now?

Absently, she heard the school bell signal the change of classes. She ignored it. It meant nothing to her.

She gazed up at the perfect blue sky, flawless and without clouds, and smiled. She was at peace. She lay back behind the fence, letting the scent of freshly clipped grass tickle her nose. She closed her eyes and manhandled the memory of the one time she had gotten close enough to him to smell his scent. And then the occasion her arm had accidentally brushed his own, and how she had licked the skin raw. It was a pale simulation, but until her heart's courage met her mind's determination she was content to make do.

She hummed, feeling a very pleasant tingle spread through her. She smiled, wishing he was with her now. Her heart fluttered, imagining what she wanted him to do to her. Her soul sang, knowing she wanted him. Knowing she needed him.

Him.

Him.

Him.

* * *

End of Her

Author notes: short, strange and more than a little silly. Told you.

So, who do you think our obsessed little fangirl was? A main cast member? A supporting cast? An ACC? Some troubled Section-2 agent? Actually, I'm not really sure myself. I tried to write it so most of the Eva girls could fit the role. Well, Rei probably wouldn't work, but oh well. End of exercise.


End file.
